


Breaking In The Other Jack

by Lost_Elf



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Groping, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Rape, Self-Indulgent, Sexual Abuse, Violence, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 10:16:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22714447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_Elf/pseuds/Lost_Elf
Summary: Timothy gets different treatment than the rest of the Vault Hunters, but that's all part of the contract, right?
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Timothy Lawrence
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	Breaking In The Other Jack

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heavybreathingcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavybreathingcat/gifts).



> Read the tags. This is dark, and has an unusual element. Be ready.
> 
> This work was written for [heavybreathingcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavybreathingcat). :)
> 
> Enjoy ^.^ :p

“The suite Jack gave me is great! Not far from the gym, and it has jacuzzi!”

“Out of all of us, I didn’t expect you to be the one excited over a jacuzzi bath, Wil,” Nisha laughed. “But I must agree. My room is nice too.”

“If I had a room, I believe it would be awesome! Jack would give me the best suite, as his most loyal Vault Hunter. But he knows I’m a loyal Vault Hunter and don’t need such spoiling. And–”

“Shut up, Claptrap!” Tim groans. “This is the last thing I need. I just want to eat dinner, have a shower and sleep for a decade. I’m so tired...”

“You should probably go,” Athena suggests. “This day has been rough on all of us.”

All of the Vault Hunters hum in approval. But Tim only sighs. “I still don’t have a room.”

“Then you can stay with me!” Claptrap offers excitedly. If Timothy haven’t seen him pull out a huge bomb out of nowhere today, he would kick him now. But adding an explosion to the list isn’t something that would fix his day, even though the hit would undoubtedly bring some comfort.

“Just go and tell Jack that you haven’t received a key yet. He’ll probably fire someone and speed up the process. You are his favourite. If you get a presidential suite, invite me over.” Nisha tips her hat at him and winks. Then she leaves to rest in her awesome suite, as well as the others. Timothy is left alone with Claptrap.

“I guess I don’t really have a choice,” he sighs, rubbing his temples to chase the growing headache away.

“I knew you would grow sense! Follow me to my awesome charging station!”

“I was talking about confronting Jack, idiot!” he groans, feeling the headache grow bigger with every word the robot lets out. He quickly walks away, grateful that the yellow monstrosity didn’t decide to follow him.

Timothy arrives at Jack’s office five minutes later. He wishes shortly that he would be able to get lost during the way, but being an employee of Hyperion for so long, it’s too easy to navigate the space station. He wishes to stop in front of the big man’s office and mentally steel himself for what is to come, but the door opens automatically when he is still far from it.

Immediately, Jack’s too excited voice greets him. “Hello, handsome!” It makes him cringe, but he supposes it’s part of his personality. Their personality. “I was wondering when you’d show up. You must be tired. Here is the key.” He pushes a card towards him.

Maybe this would be easier than expected. Timothy grasps the card, even does a little playful trick with it, spinning it in his hand a few times before shoving it in his pocket. Something Jack would do.

“You are getting better,” the programmer comments. Tim knows what he will see when he looks up, but he still shivers when he sees Jack’s face. His look is both patronising and hungry, something he would expect from a Vault monster, not a simple Hyperion employee. It makes goosebumps appear on his skin. Nisha and Wilhelm say he is paranoid. Only Athena looks at him sympathetically when Jack makes this look.

“Thanks,” he blurts out automatically. “I mean, of course I am!” He blushes. He still has a lot to learn.

“You’ve still got a lot to learn,” Jack says. Briefly, Timothy wonders if he is reading his mind, or if Tim is beginning to think like Jack, slowly turning into Jack until there is no Tim left in him. He shudders again.

“Take the same elevator that brought you here. Top floor.” Jack startles him from his thoughts.

“Yes, sir,” Tim nods and swiftly walks away.  
“Make yourself at home!” Jack calls after his retreating back.

The meaning of that sentence only hits Tim when he arrives. The elevator ride is long, to the truly top floor. He’s gonna live in a penthouse, he realises. Maybe he can invite his colleagues for a jacuzzi party. Such a suite surely has a jacuzzi big enough for all of them.

But when the door opens and greets him _Welcome home, handsome_ , he realises something that makes his stomach turn. He won’t be alone here. This is Jack’s home.

“Oh, fuck my life!” he yells, kicking a nearby chair. It doesn’t even move. He is really tired; he can’t even be an asshole anymore. “Okay, Ti— Jack... You can do this.”

Finding the kitchen is his first objective. He walks through various rooms until he walks into a big kitchen and dining room. There is a window overlooking Pandora, giving the room an even more open feeling. It makes him sick.

He spends as little time standing by the fridge as possible. As soon and he fishes out enough food to feed two Wilhelms (he is _hungry,_ he burned about a billion calories today, and he will burn as much tomorrow), he grabs some utensils and brings it all to the living room he stumbled upon on his way here. There is a window too, but he can sit on a sofa pretty far from it and pretend it doesn’t exist.

Back in college days, Tim was winning food eating competitions, so he doesn’t really have a problem to eat it all. He stuffs his face with delicious pre-made meals, which he didn’t even bother reheating. Only when the second sandwich is eaten, there is an empty bowl of pasta and a plate of chicken breast with rice, and an empty beer can, does Tim feel like he got some of his energy back.  
Now onto the room.

Tim is nice enough that he washes the dishes after himself, and then he looks for his room. He finds Jack’s first, with an obnoxiously big bed, expensive-looking silk sheets and a bottle of lube haphazardly left out on the bed nightstand. He blushes a little as quickly closes the door. His room is apparently next to Jack’s – he finds it just as the boss arrives home.

“You asleep yet, other Jack?” he calls as he walks through the maze of the penthouse. “No? Did you have dinner?”

The first thing that comes to the double's mind is the bottle of lube he saw, and he almost blushes again. “Yes, I found something in the fridge,” he says quickly, thinking of the food and not if his boss jerks off often. “It was delicious. I felt like starving, honestly. We didn’t have lunch with all the running through R&D. A stalker ate my sandwich while I was laughing at a tork that stole Nisha’s.” He realises that he is rambling and shuts up. Jack is giving him the look again.

“Good,” he says. “Glad you found the food I made. I’m gonna go eat something now.” As he leaves, Tim wonders if he will be supposed to learn how to cook the delicious meals he ate. He hopes not. It would probably end up being harder than getting him into the correct physical shape.

Just as he finally walks into his room (if the duffle bag is any indication that this is his), he hears Jack’s angry scream that makes his blood turn cold. “What the hell?!”

Tim knows that whatever made the boss angry was his fault, but he has no idea what it could’ve been. Did he eat his favourite dish? Was taking a beer too much? Or did he put the dishes in the wrong place?

Before he can decide what theory he will go with, Jack is back, standing in front of him. Somehow, he is towering over the double, even though they are the same height. He grasps Tim’s hair in a firm grip, bringing his head down in a mean tug to growl right into his ear. “Dinner, you say? The amount of food speaks of something else. More like a feast!”

Tim swallows a whimper at the sharp pain and fear that he currently feels. He can’t exactly fight back against his employer, and the helplessness is almost crushing. Another sharp tug stops him when he opens his mouth to explain himself.

“Shut up!” Jack growls. He tugs him forward, dragging him to the bathroom by his hair. “Are you stupid? Are you testing my patience? You are still five pounds above my weight, even after months of training! And yet you stuff yourself full!”

“It’s muscle weight!” he defends himself, wincing at another tug. “I move a lot; I need the energy!”

“I know exactly what you need!” Jack hisses. “I’m you, remember?! Now, shut up!” He kicks Tim in the back of his knee, sending him to the ground. When he opens his eyes, that he didn’t realise he kept closed, he sees the shiny white bowl of a toilet.

“Wha— No!” is the only thing he can say before Jack’s fingers are being shoved into his mouth.

This time, Timothy fights back. One of his hands grips the one in his hair, the other one braced on the toilet. He tries to push himself up to his feet, but Jack kneels on his shins, keeping him down in a painful way. Tim's right ankle shifts into an unnatural angle under the weight.

Without much effort, Jack manages to snatch the double’s arm and twist it behind his back. The one clutching his wrist doesn’t manage to stop him from tugging at his hair even more, and Tim opens his mouth in reflex.

Jack’s fingers shove in relentlessly until they finally reach his throat. He retches, almost bites down, but Jack doesn’t pull the fingers out until Timothy is throwing up his dinner. Part of it sticks to his chin, and he feels disgusting, but Jack doesn’t relent, and he shoves his fingers in his mouth again.

It goes like this until all Tim is able to retch out is bile. Then, Jack lets go of his hair. “Is that all?” he asks pointlessly. Timothy is clearly wrecked, and his stomach empty and agitated. “Good. Next time, stick to your diet.” He stands up and washes his hands like nothing happened.

Timothy contemplates punching the man, but the undoubtedly ugly death he would face after that would probably not be worth it. And this... What happened, he supposes that... He deserved it? It _is_ a part of his contact, after all, that he has to eat healthy and proportionally to his physique. If Jack wants him to lose the last five pounds, he probably has to. Lesson learned. He will never do this again.

When all the dizziness passes, Tim pulls himself up and brushes his teeth, washes himself. Now, he is totally ready for bed. He wishes this day was over around 2 PM.

“Tim! To my room, now!”

He cringes. What else can Jack possibly want from him? To check if he uses the correct pyjama? Too bad; Tim won’t give up the comfy sleep pants he got. He pulls them on and gets up, walking towards the source of the voice. His voice.

To his relief, Jack is also apparently sleeping in comfortable sleep pants. He is sitting in the edge of the bed, impatiently tapping his foot and waiting. “Finally!” he springs to his feet.

The door behind Timothy closes automatically, and it should probably be a major red flag. He stiffens, fights the urge to back away.

“Stay, idiot,” Jack growls. “I just want to make sure we match.”

Tim can’t resist to have a look. In his opinion, they match pretty much. Jack has the most muscles in the upper part of his body, his stomach is flat. Tim's is a little bigger, but there is also a hint of a six-pack under the layer of fat. Jack pokes at it, trying to make it jiggle, unsuccessfully.

“This will have to go,” he hums.

“Working on it, sir,” Tim assures him. Like a good soldier, pawn. He regrets saying those words, because they were unnecessary, and they only made him feel bad.

“Mm-hm, of course you are,” Jack hums, now running his hands over his upper body. He feels the curves and muscles. He keeps looking down at his own body, and so it seems almost appropriate. Tim wills himself to stand still. He is just being compared to the original.

When a hand suddenly dips into his pants, he lets out an undignified sound resembling a squeak. Jack grips his dick without preamble, laughing when Tim tries to push him away.

“Shy, Jack? You shouldn’t be,” he grins, gripping him tighter in warning. “I’m just making sure we match, remember?”

Tim closes his eyes. He feels his cheeks burning. This is all part of the contract, right? There is a bomb in his face making sure he doesn’t break the contract. He just needs to stand still and let Jack stroke him to hardness. It’s not like he isn’t into men, right? This is all completely fine...

“There you go,” Jack says. His smirk is audible in the smug voice. He pulls Tim’s pants down to the middle of his thighs, probably comparing. The thought makes his stomach turn again.

“Good,” Jack hums. “Perfect.”

If Timothy hoped that it would be over, he would be wrong. But he wasn’t _that_ naive anymore.

“Get on the bed.”

But he didn’t expect to hear _that_ either. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. On the bed, hands and knees, and drop the pants.” To drive the point, he tugs at the loose pants, causing them to fall and pool around the double’s ankles.

“You see,” Jack says conversationally when Tim remains unmoving, struggling internally to find any sense in that situation. Because the only one he could find was rape, and that... “I already have five body doubles. Not all of them are transformed; some are just cloaked. And don’t worry, you were the first.The thing is,” he says as he suddenly tugs Tim forward by his arm, “we all perfectly match. My handsome face, my sexy body, my genius character... To make sure you don’t forget who you really are, and who I really am, I have to do this.”

Tim’s eyes snap open when he is tugged forward again and falls on the bed. “Do what?” he asks stupidly, scrambling to pull his pants back up.

“Stupid looks bad on you,” Jack tsks and slaps his hands away, tugging the pants off in one swift motion.

The Vault Hunter’s training finally kicks in, and he kicks at his employer. But his movements are slow, sluggish after the long day, and Jack dodges without a problem.

“Ah-ah, none of that!” the programmer scowls. He grasps both Tim’s ankles and pulls him forward, until only the upper part of his body is on the bed, and then he flips him over by his hips and pushes him down with all his weight.

“Stop struggling, pumpkin,” he growls, “and I will make it nice.”

Tim _considers_ it; he actually does. Maybe if he just grits his teeth... for another decade or two until his contract runs out... But then he feels Jack’s finger pushing into his hole, and he starts struggling with all that is left in him. It’s not much.

“Come on, cupcake. Daddy will be real quick,” Jack promises as he pushes the finger deeper, unaffected by Tim’s trashing and swearing.

“What’s wrong with you?!” the double growls. Screaming is out of question. Nobody will hear him here in the penthouse.

“Everything. Nothing. How should I know?” Jack's tone of voice is conversational again, and it breaks something in Timothy. Is this who he became? This monster with a pretty face?

His struggles eventually die out as his body nears its limits. He lays still while Jack prepares him with lube, using so much that it drops down his thigh.

He only winces a little when Jack pushes in. It’s not that it doesn’t hurt like hell, Jack impatiently rushing the prepping, but what’s the point of shying away? This is his life now. Pain.

“You know, Jack is more enthusiastic when it comes to sex,” the boss says between pants and grunts, thrusting into Tim's hole with force that sends his body moving on the bed. “I expect you to get better at this. We’ll practice often, don’t worry.” And then he says something that brings bitter tears to Tim’s eyes. “Until then, let me help you.”

He will really be forced into this, won’t he? He shuts his eyes tight, thinks of everything nice, and not the big hand now jerking his half-hard cock unevenly.

 _This is my life now_ , he thinks later as he lays curled into a tight ball on his bed, shivering, dirty, hungry and disgusted with himself. In that moment, he is glad that Timothy Lawrence is gone.

**Author's Note:**

> This doesn't even really seem fucked up to me anymore.
> 
> Follow me on [Twitter](twitter.com/ElfWriting) if fucked-up is what you seek. I'm also funny and kind, really. I'm not a _bad_ person. Please, believe me.


End file.
